


Cut Your Losses

by orphan_account



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Gen, Implied Relationships, rated for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-07
Updated: 2013-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-10 16:10:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/787945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He can't bare to lose another. He can't bare to let her down again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cut Your Losses

**Author's Note:**

> I know this scene is just so overdone because it's really telling of Daryl's character and how he's developed with the group, but no one really did it how I wanted so I decided I'd have a go. I've never written TWD before so this could be a bit of a flop.

He blames the weight in his hand. This knife which he had given to her in passing. The knife he shoved at her with a gruff remark on how she needed to protect herself. The knife which went unused until placed in her custody. The knife which seemed so insignificant. Until now.

Every time that door thuds against the dead son of a bitch on the floor Daryl wants to kick himself. The words “it’s just a walker” coming to the front of his mind each time, but if it’s ‘just a walker’ then why can’t he get up off his fucking ass and deal with it?

He feels so weak on the floor, back resting on the cold wall and head down in fatigue. He just feels so tired. Tired of the walkers, living in constant threat and losing people. He doesn’t want to accept that he’s lost her. He doesn’t want to accept she’s gone. Hell, he’d refused to accept it when no one could provide a body. Only when he saw the scarf did he think she may be dead. It had just been easier to think she just got the hell out of dodge. But the knife, it made him remember she could defend herself. She knew how they worked, she weren’t stupid.

He mutters a curse to himself for getting his hopes up. The scarf and the knife should surely doom all hope for her survival. He huffs at his own stupidity. He’s an idiot if he thinks she could still be alive. Or maybe he’s not giving her enough credit.

The thud of the door comes again and Daryl hits the hard floor with the knife, unfazed by the loud clunk echoing through the empty corridors. His head drops and his hands meet it in frustration. There is a flicker, at the back of his mind which thinks, “that’s her behind the door. She’s waiting for me.” He scoffs at the stupid thought which becomes more prominent with each thud of the door.

“Hope’s jus’ another piece a shit baby brother,” He hears Merle’s voice opposite him, “She ain’t alive tha’s for sure. Hell, maybe that is her behind the door, but wha’ makes you think she ain’t one of ‘em geeks now, huh?” Daryl stabs the floor again with her knife.

 _Clunk_.

The thought of opening the door and seeing her, decayed, dead, hungry. He closes his eyes and wills the thought away, but to no avail. Would he even be able to do it? Zero-walker tolerance. That’s the rule. But hell, that woman means more to him than his own family ever did. That woman is the person he cares about most. He needs to open that door.

Thud.

 _Clunk_.

He couldn’t let himself think it was her. He couldn’t let himself think she was alive. He wouldn’t get his hopes up again just to have them smashed by the hell he lives in now. Not again. Not her. And now all he thinks about is how he failed that little girl, failed her mother and is just going to do so again. How the hell does he live with himself? He can’t do nothing right these days. Not for this family he’s grown to care so much about, not for this family who may be dead.

Clunk.

Thud.

“Fuck.”

The muttered curse is too loud in the silence of the prison. He needs to sort this out. yet he finds he cant pull himself off the ground.

“Damn pussy’s what ya’ are.” Merle laughs, leaning against the wall by the door. “S’all the same Darlena. Walkers is walkers.” “S’not the same.” Daryl says to the empty corridor. “Can’t kill your ol’ man when he got bit, can’t kill a little girl when she turned, now you can’t kill some dead old woman. Zero-Geek tolerance baby brother. Gotta do what’s gotta be done.” With that, Daryl finds himself off the ground, knife poised, ready to sink into the flesh of his brother, only to find he’s disappeared.

Running his hands through his hair, Daryl realised that if she was gone. If she was turned. If she was a geek... He wouldn’t be able to do it. He’d remember her soft eyes and timid smiles and gentle, comforting touches. He kicks the walker away from the door and takes a deep breath, willing it to be someone else and poises himself to open the door. It happens swiftly, the door swings open, he raises the knife and he sees her, alive.

Not a walker.

Carol.


End file.
